


Coming Up Short

by Rachello344



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: BONUS Pliroy is in the Epilogue, Background Victuuri - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Yuri POV, can be read as Pliroy pre-slash, effectively a fix-it fic, this is how I would have written the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachello344/pseuds/Rachello344
Summary: A re-imagining of the ending of Yuri!!! on Ice focusing on character development for Yuri, especially in his skating and his relationships with others.  Centered on the last three or so episodes, including the Grand Prix and ending with the exhibition and banquet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This begins just after Yuri's confrontation with J.J. and Isabella in the lobby.

Yuri wheeled around the corner, out of breath and out of time.  The furies were gaining on him, and he had nowhere to run.  He was stranded in an alley, and they were definitely going to notice him now.  He was _doomed_.

He pressed his back to the wall, closing his eyes.  He would have to accept his fate.  He hoped someone dethroned that shithead Leroy in his place.  Someone that wasn’t Katsudon.

Something landed on his head, and a hand closed around his wrist, tugging him through a door he hadn’t noticed in his haste.  The door closed behind him not a moment too soon.  The girls rounded the corner, looking for him.  Before they could notice the door, he was tugged over to a table and pressed into one of the seats.  He kept his eyes down, still worried about being seen.

The door opened behind him, but the girls didn’t notice him and quickly left to search elsewhere.  Yuri finally let himself look up to thank his rescuer.

Shithead—Jean-Jacques Leroy was smiling at him from across the table.  He was dressed casually in a nondescript outfit, a baseball cap and a plain black t-shirt under a leather jacket.  If Yuri didn’t know him, he wouldn’t have noticed him.

“What the fuck, Leroy?” Yuri blurted.  He couldn’t _thank him_.  Leroy would never let him forget it.  He would lord it over his head for the rest of his career.

Leroy snorted, but didn’t seem offended.  “Now, is that anyway to speak to your savior?”  His grin was warmer than Yuri had ever noticed, but he still felt like he was being mocked.  He narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure your intentions were totally pure,” Yuri scoffed.

Leroy actually looked surprised and then confused.  “What do you mean?  My fellow skater was in distress.  Wouldn’t anyone help a person they know evade their fangirls?  I was getting coffee here away from the crowds when I saw you outside.  You seemed like you were in trouble—or was I wrong?”

Yuri looked away, trying to find the right words to avoid admitting to anything.  “I could have handled it.”  He hated how petulant he sounded, like a _child_.

Leroy shrugged, unconcerned.  “Obviously.  But I was in a position to help.”  He smiled again.  “Honestly, accepting help doesn’t mean you weren’t capable.  Sometimes someone else is better prepared for whatever it is you’re dealing with.”  He tapped the brim of the hat Yuri had forgotten about.  “Your hair is a dead giveaway, Princess.  You’re lucky I had an extra hat with me.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yuri snapped.  He moved to take off the hat, but Leroy shook his head.

“Those girls could come back, and once it’s safe to leave you might run into them again.”  Was he _always_ smiling?  “Take it with you.  You can always give it back to me later.”

Yuri didn’t want to see him again, but couldn’t deny he had a point.  The hat stayed on.  For a long moment, silence stretched between them.  Leroy took a drink of his coffee.

“How are you feeling about the grand prix tomorrow?”  So much for silence.  “Your practice seemed to be going well.”  Leroy smiled, _of fucking course_.

“Yeah, I’m sure you noticed, first done and all.”  Yuri crossed his arms, looking away.  “Fucking over-confident, aren’t you?  Even though you’re the man to beat?”

“Well, I mean,” Leroy tried, a little flustered.  Yuri had never seen him so out of sorts before.  Normally he was practically oozing obnoxious charm, but he actually looked uncomfortable for a change.  “If I left after you, you’d still be annoyed, right?  Like I was trying to show you up by working harder?”  Leroy tapped his cheek, considering.

Yuri sputtered.  “What the fuck?  Like I’d care that much about what you do.”  Yuri turned away.  He should just get up and sit somewhere else.

He didn’t want Leroy to realize that he was right.

“Since I’m not actually trying to make other people angry, I decided some time ago to stop practicing when it stopped feeling productive.  Whether or not that means I leave first or last changes depending on the day.”  Leroy said.

Silence fell once more, awkward this time.  Yuri looked away and tapped at the table.  How long did he have to sit here?

Leroy was the first to crack.  He perked up, tugging out his phone.  “Oh, I forgot.  I wanted to show you—since you don’t follow my Instagram, you wouldn’t have seen—I got two kittens recently.”  Leroy thumbed the screen.

Yuri froze.  He wasn’t going to bite.  He was going to ignore him, and then he was going to leave.  He was not going to give in just because Leroy probably had _pictures_ on his phone.  They were probably adorable.

No.  He was going to stand up.  Any second now.

Leroy held up his phone, beaming.  “This one is Rhythm, and this one is Melody.”  Before Yuri knew what he was doing, he was holding the phone and scrolling through nearly endless pictures two tiny kittens, one an adorable tortoiseshell and the other a sweet little gray tabby.

In spite of himself, he smiled.  He swiped through them one by one, unable to look away.  “How long have you had them?”

“I got them during the off season.”  Leroy sounded pleased.  “One of my band mates is watching them for me while I’m away.  He’s been sending me pictures.”

“How can you stand to leave them behind?”

“It’s hard,” Leroy agreed.  “But I know they’ll be happy to see me when I get home.  They’re such sweethearts.  Next time you’re in Canada, you’ll have to come meet them for yourself.”

Yuri hesitated.  On the one hand, _kittens_.  On the other hand, _J.J. fucking Leroy._   He passed back the phone, still thinking.  Leroy laughed softly.

“Don’t hurt yourself, tiger,” he said, his tone shifting into something Yuri hesitated to call teasing.  “You don’t need to decide _now_.  I can tell this is very hard for you.”  He was laughing, but for some reason, it didn’t feel malicious like it usually did.

Yuri heaved a sigh.  “You’re such an asshole, but your cats are so cute,” he complained.  “It’s not fair.  Someone as obnoxious as you isn’t allowed to have such cute cats.”

“Rude,” Leroy said, but he still seemed more amused than annoyed.  Did he never get angry?  _What the fuck?_

“Do you not have any emotions beside the showboating and the grandstanding?” Yuri asked abruptly.  If Katsudon or Yakov was here, he probably would have been scolded, but the question was already out.

Leroy frowned.  “Do you not have any emotions besides anger and spite?”  He crossed his arms.  “Of course, I have feelings.  Where on earth did that come from?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you anything but positive this whole time.  Even when I snap at you or people ignore you or…”  Yuri shook his head and wrinkled his nose.  “It’s creepy.”

“Your behavior notwithstanding, I’m hardly the only skater to maintain a positive outlook.”  Leroy sighed.  “I expected this season to be Christophe and I battling for gold now that Victor’s gone, but you and Katsuki were bolts out of the blue.”  He took a drink, thinking for a moment.  “Frankly, I’m as anxious as anyone else.  I just put on a persona and fake it, because it helps me get over any anxiety I feel.  No room for doubt when you’re battling for the top spot, eh?”

“Why are you telling me this?” Yuri asked, suspicious.  Revealing a weak point was a mistake no matter how he looked at it.

Leroy smirked at him.  “Even if you told people, they’d never believe you.  My persona is a masterwork.”

Yuri opened and closed his mouth.  God damn it, he was right.  “You bastard.”

“Excuse you.”  Leroy put on an expression of offense, but it looked like he was teasing again.  “My parents were married long before I was born.”

Yuri groaned.  “You know what I meant, you piece of shit.”  He ignored Leroy’s smirk, thinking back to what he’d said.  “Wait, you called me and Katsudon ‘bolts out of the blue.’  What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leroy seemed surprised, but shrugged.  “You were both a surprise.  Katsuki is a great skater, but he usually caves under too much pressure.  With Victor he seems to have struck a balance that works.  That makes him dangerous as a competitor.”  Leroy scratched the back of his neck with a hesitant smile.  “And, well, I saw you perform when you were in juniors—watching my siblings’ competitions, eh?  Learning I was going to be competing against you was quite a shock.”

“Oh, Amelia and Mason, right?”  Yuri frowned.  “I think I forgot the three of you were related.  Or, well, I forgot Mason was.  Amelia is exactly like you.”  He wrinkled his nose.

Leroy laughed brightly.  “I must say, I wasn’t disappointed.  You’re as good as ever.  Better, even.  Maybe I’m only talking like this since the season’s almost over, but I’ve had a blast competing with you, Yuri.  You’ve been amazing.”  He grinned.  “So, I say from the bottom of my heart, I hope you do your best tomorrow.  I want to see you on the podium again.”

Yuri scowled.  “Now I _know_ you’re mocking me.”

“Mocking?”  Leroy frowned.  “Teasing, maybe, but I’m being serious here.  I don’t want to lose, but I want you to do well.  Haven’t you ever felt like that before?”

Yuri thought of competing against Katsudon and looked away.  “You’re always looking down on me.”

“What part of that was condescending?”  Leroy sounded annoyed now.  “My two biggest threats this season are you and Katsuki.  Why would I look down on you?  I respect you as a fellow skater.  You’re my rival.”

Yuri’s phone buzzed against his thigh.  When he pulled it out, Yakov’s name was on the screen.  “I need to take this.  I’ll see you around, I guess,” Yuri said, getting up without meeting his eyes or waiting for a response.  He didn’t want to believe him.  How could Leroy respect him after beating him so many times?

“Hello?” Yuri answered in Russian.  He left the coffee shop as Yakov demanded to know where he was.

He didn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

 

They were walking out of the restaurant, still arguing about who was _really_ going to come out on top when Leroy and his fiancée showed up.  Leroy attempted to join in, returning their good-natured jabs with one of his own, but everyone turned away as if in agreement.  Yuri didn’t feel good about it.

He stopped walking, letting them get ahead before he met Leroy’s eyes.  He pulled the hat out of one of his shopping bags and held it out, making Leroy come to him.

When he was close enough, Yuri shoved the hat at him.  “You better do your fucking best tomorrow.  I expect a close second from you.”  When he looked back, Leroy looked startled.  “You’re not gonna win, but maybe your fiancée has a taste for silver.”

Leroy grinned, wide and almost dangerous.  Yuri thought it was something about the way his teeth caught the light.  He tried not to think about it.

“Close second?  I could say the same to you, tiger.”  His smirk was just as bad.  “Give it your all.  I expect to see you on that podium with me.”

Yuri gave him a curt nod and turned away, jogging to catch up with the others.  When asked about the delay, he couldn’t think of anything to say.  “None of your fucking business,” he muttered, shoving them out of his space.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri stared down at his hands.  Even after everything, he couldn’t figure out Agape?  What the fuck?  Katsudon understood his theme fine, so why couldn’t he handle such a simple fucking theme?  Even after months of rehearsals and every competition, he couldn’t get his head right, or else he couldn’t _keep_ it right.  He clenched his fists at his side.

His score wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.  It wasn’t enough to earn him a top spot, and it was barely enough to keep him in the running.  Everyone else was on their A-game.  Katsudon had done his best yet, Christophe was finally peaking as expected, Phichit was doing his utmost to earn his place…

When it was Leroy’s turn, Yuri forced himself to look up.  It was immediately apparent that something was wrong.  A late start, a flubbed combo…

“What the fuck?” he muttered, scowling.  “Hey, Leroy, get your head on straight!”  When the words—shouted loudly—caught up to him, it was in time to notice that he was standing and Leroy was stumbling once, his head whipping to face him.  After a beat, Leroy laughed and, somehow, seemed to get over whatever was wrong.  His jumps were still shaky, and his skating was obviously not his best, but it was better than it was.

Yuri was sure that Leroy was going to break down—hit his chair, maybe, or start to cry, but when his fiancée started to cheer through her crying, when the crowd joined in…  Yuri had never seen such a painful smile.  Why was he even trying to keep up his shitty persona?  Everyone must know it was a sham by now.

As the crowd cheered and Leroy forced his smile, Yuri froze, mind reeling.  _He doesn’t want them to worry about him.  Even though this is the worst performance of his life, he wants them to stay positive.  He should be crying or shouting and thinking of himself, but he’s smiling for their sake._   Yuri’s lips parted around what might have been a gasp.

_This is Agape._

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri was still shaking, hunched over the toilet bowl.  His throat stung with bile, and his head spun.  _Why?_   After everything, why now?  He coughed, shuddering.

He’d faltered during his short program, but so had Leroy.  His free skate should have been enough to pull ahead.  He’d thrown himself into it, running himself into the ice until it was over.  It should have been enough.  He only needed to beat Katsudon, really, but after everything…  After all of his hard work, after all he’d done—Yuri’s breath caught on a sob.

Last place.  Last fucking place.  Katsudon and Christophe and fucking Leroy all on the podium without him.  He felt like screaming, his chest tight and his lungs aching and empty as he sobbed, gasping for breath.

As if the burning sting in his throat wasn’t bad enough, as soon as he started to cry, he couldn’t seem to stop.  His nose began to drip, and his eyes burned with his tears.  He barely remembered to flush the toilet, too busy trying to wipe away the tears.

By the time he’d started to hiccup, he heard the bathroom door open behind him.  He ignored it, trying to quiet his sobs.  There was a sigh from outside the stall.

“Lilia mentioned she saw you come this way,” Katsudon said.  “Will you open the door?  I thought you might want some water.”

“Go away,” Yuri muttered miserably.

Katsudon sighed again.  “Yurio, please come out.  Your coaches are worried about you.”

“Tell them I’m fine.”

“I’m not going to lie to them,” Katsudon said.  “Besides, Lilia knows you much too well for that.”

Yuri sniffed pathetically.  That much was true at least.  He rubbed his hands along his pants, considering his options.  Katsudon had water, which would soothe his throat and probably make his head stop hurting quite so badly.  Lilia would probably know what to say to make him feel better.  Still, he didn’t want anyone to see him like this, pathetic and defeated.

“If anyone could understand how you feel right now, it’s me,” Katsudon said.  “This was the same situation you found me in when we first met, remember?”  After a pause, Katsudon sighed again.  “No matter what, I’ll keep all of this to myself.  No one will know.  Fair’s fair, right?”

“What?” Yuri felt like his brain wasn’t moving fast enough to keep up anymore.  His muscles felt leaden, like he was some kind of heavy sludge, melting into the tile.

“You never told anyone about my breakdown last year,” Katsudon said simply.  “Everyone found out when they saw me get drunk after, but the breakdown itself has gone completely unmentioned.”

Yuri unlocked the stall, but didn’t move to get up.  Katsudon didn’t look at him with pity, but sympathy.  Yuri’s shoulders slumped further.

“Oh, Yurio.”  He passed him the water bottle and knelt in front of him.  Yuri didn’t bother to stop him when he pushed his bangs off his forehead.  The water wasn’t especially cold, but Yuri couldn’t seem to stop drinking.  His throat was so dry, the water felt amazing.

Katsudon smiled at him, undoing his braid with gentle fingers.  Yuri didn’t deserve it.  “Why are you being so nice?” Yuri asked.  He was aiming for angry, but he thought it probably sounded more petulant or sullen.  He only hoped he didn’t sound like he was on the verge of crying again.

“You’re my friend, Yurio.”  Katsudon rolled his eyes as if it were that simple.  His fingers set to work combing through Yuri’s hair.  “Turn around, and I can braid this for you, hm?”

Yuri did as he was told, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.  “You should have gotten Agape,” he heard himself say.

Katsudon’s fingers paused only for a moment.  Yuri could hear him shaking his head.  “Maybe.  I probably understand it better, but I don’t think Victor and I would have come together like this if he hadn’t forced me out of my comfort zone.”

“He just wanted into your pants,” Yuri muttered under his breath.

Katsudon snorted.  “Well, yes, there is that.  I don’t think he made the wrong choice though.”  Yuri frowned down at his legs.  He was in his sweats, but he wanted to be in pajamas and in bed so he could cry privately.  “Do you understand it now, Yurio?”

“Do I understand _what_?”

“Unconditional love.  Have you learned what it means?” Katsudon persisted.

Yuri tried to scowl.  “What does it matter now that the season’s basically over?”

“There’s always next season.  It’s important to learn from your mistakes and failures.”  Katsudon's fingers were as soothing as his words were cutting.  “Did you learn what it means?”

Leroy forcing a smile as he struggled to keep it together, all to keep his fans from worrying, expecting nothing but distant support in return; Lilia and Yakov, supporting him in his training; Lilia treating him like her own son; Yuko and the triplets keeping in touch and cheering him on from all the way in Japan; Katsudon bringing him water and braiding his hair, never commenting on the tears.

“Yes,” he said softly, “I know what it means now.”

Katsudon turned him back around, his hands endlessly gentle.  “I’m proud of you, Yurio.”

Yuri turned his head sharply, tears welling back up.  “I’m always mean to you.”

“I know.”

“I call you names and shove you and kick you.”

“I know.”

“Then… why?”

“I’ve never had a little brother, but I imagine it would be like this.”  When Yuri risked a look, Katsudon was smiling.  “It hurts, when you call me names and everything, but you did share your pirozhki with me, and you aren’t _always_ mean.”

Yuri looked down, frowning at his hands.  “I’m…  I’m never going to say this again,” he said firmly.  “This is a moment of weakness and nothing more, so don’t fucking expect anything or whatever.”  Yuri took a deep breath, bracing himself and met Katsudon’s eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

Katsudon rested a hand on his head.  “Thank you.  That means a lot to me.”

“I’m not going to—I’m not going to change overnight or anything.”  Yuri scowled.  “I mean, Yuko likes you, so I guess you can’t be a horrible person.  And you’ve been okay, I guess, so…”

Katsudon laughed.  “Alright, I think I get it.  No need to force yourself.  We’re friends, aren’t we?”  Yuri couldn’t find the words to respond, but Katsudon barreled on, unconcerned.  “Now, how are you feeling?  Up to talking to your coaches and going back to the hotel to sleep?”

“Sleep yes, talking no.”  Yuri tried to stand, but his legs buckled.

“Oh, dear, did you push yourself too hard?  Are your legs okay?”

“Fuck off, they’re fine,” Yuri grumbled.  “Just sore, for fuck’s sake, _Mom_.”

“Well, when Lilia finds out, she’s not going to be happy.”

Yuri groaned.  “Fuck.  Okay, help me up, I need to relearn how to walk normally before she sees me.”  Katsudon, the bastard, laughed again.  For once, though, Yuri didn’t feel like he was being mocked.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri was still recovering from the previous night’s exhaustion by the time Lilia forced him back to the rink.  Whether he wanted to or not, he was required to watch the exhibition skate.  Missing it was more than rude, unfortunately.  Yuri had half a mind to nap through all three.

He was almost there, head nodding, when up-beat music came on over the loud speakers.  For a moment, Yuri couldn’t figure out what song was playing, but when he finally forced himself to look down at the ice, he was unsurprised to find Leroy spinning into a pretty light routine.

While his normal routines focused on technical difficulty, this time he mostly seemed to be jumping as high as he could manage—which was to say, obnoxiously high— and doing ridiculous combos, not to mention actually singing the song he’d chosen aloud.  Yuri tried to understand the lyrics, but he thought they might be in French.  Whatever they were, they sounded romantic.  Yuri figured the song was probably one of Leroy’s, but outside of his ‘theme,’ Yuri hadn’t listened to the rest of his music.  If the rest of it was more like this, he thought he could almost be tempted.  Even in a language he didn’t understand, it was pretty catchy and easy on the ears, not that he’d ever _tell_ him.

It was odd watching Leroy skate.  Parts of it were obviously for his fans, little winks and particular jumps or spins, but a lot of it seemed to be just because he wanted to.  He actually looked like he was having fun, even more than he usually did.  Outside of Phichit, Yuri couldn’t remember the last time someone actually looked like they were genuinely enjoying themselves.  Afterward, sure, but _during_?  In Yuri’s experience, it was usually an act.

For that matter, Yuri wasn’t sure when _he_ last had fun skating.  It was a job, and he needed the money, needed to be the best.  He didn’t have room for fun.

But Leroy won bronze, even after his worst performance of the season.

He snuck a glance at Lilia, considering.  “Are there… any dance classes your ballerinas took for fun?  To relax?” Yuri asked, trying to ignore how shy he sounded.

Lilia looked surprised, but she gave the question her full consideration.  “The older girls occasionally dance jazz or lyrical, though a very few prefer modern and hip hop.”  She leveled him with an evaluating look.  “If you promise to keep your form perfect, I believe you might enjoy trying modern dance.  I happen to know an instructor near my own studio.  Shall I set something up?”

Yuri nodded before she could change her mind, turning back to the ice.  Lilia patted his head affectionately.

“When we return, I’ll make sure Yakov gives you several days off.  You can spend them as you wish—on the ice or off, dancing or not.”  Lilia was smiling, eyes on the ice.  “You’ve worked very hard this season, and come very far.  I think you’ve earned a short break.  Afterward, it will be back to work, though.”  Yuri nodded, turning his eyes back to the rink.

Thankfully, Leroy was leaving the ice, and Christophe was next, so Yuri was under no true obligation to pay attention.  He needed the time to collect himself.  After Christophe was Katsudon, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be skating alone.  At least, not if he and Victor had really made up like it seemed.

Yuri rubbed his palm and bit at his lip.  He wasn’t really going to quit, right?  Yuri still needed to win, so whatever Victor did, Katsudon _had_ to keep skating, right?  What kind of idiot quit while they were just starting to win?

Yuri’s brow furrowed.  Katsudon _was_ an idiot, so he might actually go through with it.  _Fuck_.  Katsudon couldn’t just _leave_.  Yuri didn’t want him to.  He wanted to keep skating with him, even if he was annoying.  Yuri squeezed his palm harder and forced himself to keep his eyes open, concentrating on keeping himself calm and collected.

Too soon, people were clapping and Christophe was waving out at the crowd, smiling wide and happy.  Yuri couldn’t remember any of his routine, or even what genre the music had been.  He almost felt guilty for it.  And then the ice was being cleared and Katsudon was skating on.

The music was immediately recognizable:  Victor’s melancholy program, the one that Katsudon had used to steal him away from Russia.  Yuri couldn’t help it; he groaned.  Lilia hushed him, but when he looked up at her, her lips were tilted up ever so slightly.  When she caught him looking, she wrinkled her nose just once and winked.  Yuri stifled his laugh.

Romantic idiots, the both of them, skating to some sappy love song in front of everyone.  Somehow, Yuri had the feeling that if there was a priest in the audience, they’d get married right there on the ice.  Disgusting, frankly.

Yuri looked away.  They both wore their hearts on their sleeves, out where anyone could see and find the easiest way to hurt them.  Yuri clenched his fists and kept his eyes averted.  As the song swelled to a warm finish, he heard people whistling with their applause and knew they were kissing.

His chest felt tight, so he focused on breathing and kept his eyes on his hands.  Watching people he knew kissing each other was seriously gross.  It didn’t make him feel lonely.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri only needed to speak to three more people before Lilia would let him leave.  Once he’d said something to each of the other competitors, he was free to go.  The only people he had left were Christophe, Phichit, and Leroy.  He didn’t want to talk to any of them.

At least Phichit and Christophe were standing with Katsudon.  He congratulated them both through his scowl, fighting not to smack Katsudon when he laughed.

“Good effort on the congrats,” Phichit said, snickering.  “And good job this season.  Sucks about your scores this time, but,” he shrugged, “there’s always next time.”

Yuri didn’t find that especially comforting, but he nodded once anyway.

“This is the kid’s first major loss,” Christophe said, waving a hand.  “Cut him some slack.”

The conversation continued, but when Victor rejoined them, Yuri quickly left.  He wasn’t ready to deal with Victor.  Not really.

He kept an eye on the festivities, but he couldn’t seem to find Leroy anywhere.  He saw his coaches, and he saw plenty of other people, but none of them were Leroy.  He hadn’t left, had he?  If he had, did that mean that Yuri was trapped at the party?

When he asked Lilia, half-panicked, she rolled her eyes and gestured to a further corner of the party.  Sure enough, Leroy was there, leaning against a wall and nursing a drink of some kind.  Yuri thanked her and walked over, feeling more than a little cautious.

When Leroy noticed him, he checked behind him as if he thought Yuri was approaching someone else.  Yuri huffed, but couldn’t deny he had a point.

“This is a surprise,” Leroy said, eyebrows raised.

“My coach said I couldn’t leave until I’d spoken to all of my competitors.”  Yuri sighed.  “You’re the last one, and then I can leave.”

Leroy winked.  “Saving the best for last?”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Leroy.”  Yuri frowned at him.  “Why are you over here, anyway?  I figured you’d be in the thick of it.”

Leroy mustered up a weak smile.  “Just not feeling it tonight.  I’ve already made my rounds, but going back to the hotel would be just as tiring as standing around here.”

“Your fiancée go home already or something?”

Leroy winced, looking away.  “Can I trust you to keep personal information to yourself?”

“Why would I ever admit to talking to you long enough to get personal information?” Yuri asked seriously.  Leroy covered his eyes, snickering.

“Yeah, okay, fair enough.”  His mirth quickly faded in a sigh.  “We’ve called off the engagement.”

“What?  I thought—”

“So did I,” Leroy interrupted.  “But losing on a win streak like that, it’s sort of like dropping a ring.  It’s bad luck, and well.  It suggested that I didn’t really want to get married.”  He sighed again.  “We’re taking a break, but until we figure out what that means, I’m out my best friend.  I can’t even call Leo yet—time zones, eh?”

Yuri blinked once.  “Wow.  That’s rough,” he said for lack of anything better to say.

“Thank you for that stunning display of sympathy,” Leroy said with a wry smile.  “That means so much coming from you.”

Yuri rolled his eyes.  “What do you want me to say?  She’s probably too good for you, Leroy.  Outside of that, I don’t know what to say.  Georgi’s the only person I know who’s been broken up with.”

“What about Victor and Mila?” Leroy asked, accepting the subject change.

“They dumped everyone they dated.”  Yuri crossed his arms.  “I did have to field, like, three of the clingier exes for Mila, actually.  She let me curse them out and kick them out of our home rink.”  He smirked.  “That was the best part of her break ups.”

“You’ve never dated anyone?”  Leroy didn’t seem threatening, just curious.

Yuri shook his head.  “Too busy.  I have to train hard to be the best.”

“Then I’ll definitely see you on the podium this time next year, eh?” Leroy perked up.  “This time with both of us on our best skates.”

Yuri nodded once, sharply.  “It’s a fucking promise, Leroy.”


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-series epilogue for some cute Pliroy shenanigans.

Leroy was laughing, loud and raucous and probably more than a little tipsy.  Yuri couldn’t take his eyes off of him, the way he threw his head back, the way he gripped the table, his whole body moving with the force of his mirth.  They were out drinking with some of the other skaters, rivalries set aside for the night in favor of drinking the night away.

Yuri and Leroy had been spending more time together off the ice, and two years and a gold medal grand prix performance for each other them later, Yuri considered them friends as much as rivals.  His eyes fell to Leroy’s mouth as he grinned.  Well, _mostly_ friends.

Leroy was still cocky and annoying, but he was also a good listener and genuinely fun to be around, despite his persona being so _much_.  When they were in town at the same time, they’d even begun taking dance classes together.  Nothing serious, just laid back lessons on whatever style was being offered that day—contemporary, lyrical, modern, hip hop, jazz, even ballroom once.

Leroy was a great dancer, loose and confident, quick to pick up whatever form he was studying.  Yuri wasn’t exactly a natural—too stiff from years of ballet—but he was getting better.  It was all an excuse, though, just a contrived way to spend more time with Leroy without that weird tension creeping up on them.  The ballroom dancing had definitely been a mistake.

Yuri watched Leroy intently, eyes tracking his throat as he swallowed, his lips as he grinned, the flash of teeth when he laughed.  Yuri licked his lips.  They were definitely friends, but at the same time, Yuri had never felt _this_ for one of his friends before.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders.  “You should ask him to dance,” Katsudon told him.  Yuri scowled, taking another drink.  “No, no, don’t be like that.  You like him, so you should dance with him.”

Yuri scoffed.  “We dance together all the time, old man.  Maybe not as often as you and your limpet, but often enough.”  Said limpet was pouting because his husband wasn’t paying enough attention to him.  Another drink and Yuri bet his clothes started coming off.  Again.  At least Katsudon was staying sober this time.

“Maybe,” Katsudon agreed with a sly smile, “but you don’t dance _together_.  Not like _that_.”  He gave a significant nod toward the dance floor.  Yuri could vividly remember the feeling of Leroy’s arms around him as they waltzed.

“He’s drunk.”

“No, _Vitya_ is drunk,” Katsudon corrected.  Victor whined, trying to press closer to Katsudon, but to no avail.  “J.J. is mildly intoxicated.  He’s been pacing himself.  Haven’t you noticed?”

Yuri hadn’t.  He’d been too focused on his mouth to pay much attention to whatever else he was doing.  Leroy had been talking to Leo all night, completely ignoring him anyway.  Not that he was annoyed or feeling neglected or anything, but…

“He’s waiting for you to make a move,” Katsudon said.  “He’s been watching you all night.”

“He has not,” Yuri scoffed.  “I think I would have noticed.”

Katsudon snorted a laugh.  “Oh, right, of course, because you’ve been watching his _eyes_.”

When Yuri blushed, he decided to blame it on the alcohol.  Sure enough, though, when he let his eyes wander a little higher, Leroy was looking at him.  Caught, Yuri fumbled, but before he could look away, Leroy grinned and threw him a cheeky wink.

 _Oh._   Maybe… Katsudon might be on to something.  Still watching, Leroy’s eyes darted between him and the dance floor once; he bit the inside of his lip.

Yuri shot to his feet.

“I want to dance,” he declared abruptly.  “Leroy, come with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Leroy laughed, clapping Leo on the shoulder as he stood.

“Don’t forget to leave room for Jesus,” Leo called after them.  Yuri flipped him the bird; Leroy just laughed again.

The dance floor was crowded, too many bodies packed into too small a space.  The music was loud enough to resonate in his ribs, much louder than it seemed back at their booth.  Leroy crowded in close, pressed in by the sea of bodies around them.

His arm snaked around Yuri’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest.  Yuri wrapped his arms around Leroy’s neck, swaying in time with the music.  Leroy rested one hand on Yuri’s hip, the other slipping under his shirt, pressing against the bare skin of his back.  Yuri’s lips parted in surprise, and he tilted his head back to meet J.J.’s eyes.

J.J. leaned down, their noses brushing, and touched their cheeks together, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear.  Yuri shuddered, clinging as his knees threatened to give.

“You look incredible tonight, Yuri.”

Yuri bit his lip, blinking slowly as J.J. pulled away from his ear.  _Now or never_ , he thought.  _There is no better time than now_.

Yuri stood on his tip toes, brushing his lips over J.J.’s, clumsy and a little overeager.  Still, J.J.’s eyes seemed to darken, and he ducked his head, cupping the back of Yuri’s neck as he guided him into a firmer kiss.  Yuri melted, moaning into J.J.’s mouth.

It was all Yuri could do not to drag J.J. off the dance floor and back to their hotel.  He wanted privacy; he wanted to hear himself thing, hear J.J. _speak_.  But he came here to dance, so they should dance, at least a little.

When they pulled apart, J.J. was smirking like he knew exactly what Yuri was thinking about.  Yuri rubbed his fingers along the velvety buzz of J.J.’s undercut, swaying against him until J.J.’s eyes were going lidded and his head was drifting toward Yuri’s once more.

Yuri turned around, pressing his back to J.J.’s chest, smirking at the moment of confusion on his face.  When understanding dawned, J.J. wrapped his arms around Yuri’s waist, grinding against him until Yuri could feel just how affected J.J. was.

Yuri dropped his head back, wrapping one arm behind him to link around J.J.’s neck, holding him even closer.  They probably needed to talk about this, but for now, Yuri let the music wash through him, his skin humming and his blood buzzing, his very bones vibrating in time with the beat.

For once, Yuri wasn’t worried about what the future would bring.  He had friends and family who supported him, a rival-turned-friend (now lover?) who kept him aiming higher and higher.  Yuri always went for the gold; he wasn’t going to settle for anything less.


End file.
